


Worthy

by dragonspell



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragon Hanzo Shimada, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Xenophilia, forced transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: Not a single one is worthy of mating him, but yet they surround him with their intentions as clear as a cloudless day.  Their eyes stare too long, their gaze hungry, and they smile like wolves as they watch him fight the bonds that keep him on his knees.  One has knelt behind him, his unwanted touches taking liberties with Hanzo’s naked, half-transformed and entirely too-vulnerable skin.  “Easy,” the man behind him cajoles.  His tone sickens Hanzo, reminding him of the type of voice one might take when trying to coax an injured deer into ill-advised trust.   An ear-piercing howl reverberates through the room, echoing from deep within the surrounding building.  Fear bubbles up into the air, thick and sour, its stench turning Hanzo’s stomach.  The man inside of him withdraws, leaving Hanzo with nothing but the hot, maddening ache of his emptiness.  Metal jingles behind him as he snarls.  “You made sure to lock McCree’s door, right?” the man hisses.(Or, dragon!Hanzo is captured and in heat.  Wolf!Jesse breaks out to breed him.  Please mind the tags.  Non-con elements and the xenophilia is strong in this one.  Anatomy fuckery.  Kind of, sort of bestiality.)





	Worthy

Not a single one is worthy of mating him, but yet they surround him with their intentions as clear as a cloudless day. Their eyes stare too long, their gaze hungry, and they smile like wolves as they watch him fight the bonds that keep him on his knees. One has knelt behind him, his unwanted touches taking liberties with Hanzo’s naked, half-transformed and entirely too-vulnerable skin. Hanzo thrashes against his restraints, firmly rejecting the advances. He strains under the heavy ovals of steel, making them clank together and pinch his scales, but he gains little. His tail swishes to each side, hoping for leverage and finding nothing. The men standing around him titter in amusement and anger boils inside of Hanzo. How dare these men disrespect him so? How dare they chain him to the floor? How dare they _touch_ him? Treat him like a toy for their titillation? 

His claws scrape the concrete, nails screeching over the unforgiving floor. He throws himself forward and back, looking to pull the metal bolts from their anchorings. “Easy,” the man behind him cajoles. His tone sickens Hanzo, reminding him of the type of voice one might take when trying to coax an injured deer into ill-advised trust. Hanzo tries to voice his displeasure, but it comes out as an unintelligible scream behind the leather gag that covers his mouth and jaw and seals his teeth away. 

The impertinent hand slides over his flank, slipping along his inner thigh before delving into the cleft of his ass to rub under his tail, caressing the sensitive patch of skin found there. Hanzo arches, unable to stop the instinctual motion of his body or his accompanying moan. _Damn_ his heat. He schools himself but it is too late. The titters of the men around him turn to outright laughter. His face burns, embarrassment and arousal warring across his cheeks. 

His insides feel like molten lava, instincts demanding that he present himself before a suitable mate, that he _breed_. Hanzo has put it off for far too long, foolishly thinking that he still had time or, worse yet, that he could even ignore his body’s urges. When the men had come for him, capturing him from his mountain spring, Hanzo had been in no position to fend them off. They’d crashed through the underbrush like bumbling fawns, fumbling with their weapons and their surprise in equal measure. Escape should have been assured, their deaths unmourned, yet here Hanzo kneels before them, forced to supplicate himself to their desires. Their harsh metal binds him and keeps him from fully transforming, stuck in a half-state, not human, not dragon, but something in-between.

The men circling him call him “it” and “creature” and “monster.” He is not a sentient being to them, merely a plaything, an object to be examined.

The fingers slide between his legs to prod his sensitive slit. Hanzo inhales sharply, arcing towards the left as a spasm of pleasure ripples through him. His legs kick out, spreading further apart on the hard concrete, and the fingers take that as their consent to dip inside of him, breaching the fold of his genital slit and slipping into the wet, hot core of him. Another moan wrenches out of Hanzo’s unwilling throat, giving voice to the desperation that he has been trying to deny for hours now. The fingers are gentle, warm and solid if too small, a tiny taste of what he wants, just enough to make the baser parts of himself want to beg for more. They slip through the wetness of his insides, gently stroking his inner walls and Hanzo’s vision whites out with the pleasure roiling through him. He drops himself to the ground, whorishly offering himself to this unworthy mate. His pride fractures, splintering alone the edges. 

Perhaps once will be acceptable, one breeding to take the edge off. Hanzo can find a more suitable mate after, right? He won’t need to bear the offspring of this weak, craven and entirely too short-lived mammal? And yet what is there to stop the rest of them from taking their turns? Hanzo glances around at the surrounding men, silently counting, and buries the thought that maybe he could take them all. He squeezes his eyes shut and the throbbing in his lower half intensifies. 

The man chuckles and gives him a soothing pat as he pumps his fingers teasingly inside of Hanzo. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “He’s in heat alright.” Hanzo pushes back onto the man’s slowly questing fingers, momentarily accepting their invasion if they will grant him relief in return.

“How do you know it’s a ‘he’?” a voice from the circle asks. A couple others titter again.

The man snorts. “He has a dick, so why not?”

“What? Where? I just see that wet hole you’ve got your fingers in.”

“Could stick a dick in there,” another voice murmurs and Hanzo squirms on the fingers. Yes. Breeding. That is what Hanzo needs.

A third laughs. “Oh, it likes that idea.”

The fingers stroke upward, relaxing key muscles and encouraging Hanzo’s length to descend. Hanzo moans, flattening his upper half more fully to the floor to give his unwanted mate more access to his nethers, the feeling of a mate interested in that part of his anatomy during his heat too hardwired into pleasure receptors and instinctive behaviors to ignore. His penis emerges from the warm wetness of his slit into the cold dry air and the fingers follow it out, stroking along the shaft. Hanzo hates the weak whimper he gives in response, but he could no more stop it than he could stop the world from turning. “See?” the man says, lifting Hanzo’s shaft up for the group’s inspection.

“Whoa,” the idiot from before exclaims. Hanzo is cupped and squeezed, the touch gentle like a lover’s, and he rocks from side to side, unable to hold himself still amid the pleasure surging through him. He is fully presented, waiting for his mate to breed him, unworthy trash though the human is. Just once, Hanzo promises himself. Just the one. If the others try, he will resist. He will crush them and drown the remains.

He only needs the one to help soothe the burning pressure surging inside of him. The laughter of the men grate against his pride and Hanzo forces himself back up onto his hands, moving out of the position that his instincts demand he contort himself into. He’ll accept this worthless mate but he doesn’t have to do it gladly— _wantonly_.

“Dragons have a different kind of anatomy.” The man caresses the tip of Hanzo’s penis, thumb at his slit, then traces the length back up to his aching hole. Hanzo moans when the man enters again, body welcoming the man’s meager offering like a starving beast. Giving into instinct, he drops himself back down and spreads his legs as far as he can get them. His tail flips back over his back and to the side to bare himself. The man chuckles, fingers squelching with Hanzo’s dripping eagerness. Embarrassing. If only Hanzo could find it in himself to _care_ anymore. He just wants more of whatever the man can offer him. He doubts that the man’s pathetic human penis will satisfy him but at this point, his heat is demanding he accept it anyway. “And he is definitely ready to be bred.” 

The man strokes along Hanzo’s inner walls, sending small surges of need rocketing to Hanzo’s hind brain. Hanzo’s breath hitches and he flicks the end of his tail, curling it around to touch the man’s leg. “You can see in the tail. How he humps it out of the way like that.” More fingers skim along the bottom of Hanzo’s tail, sliding down to where it joins with his back. Hanzo’s resultant whine is pure need and he pushes his hips up higher, his pride splintering. More laughter echoes through the room. “And, well, that right there.” The man sounds fond as he rolls his fingers inside of Hanzo, causing Hanzo to roll his body to match. “Such a pretty thing, too, aren’t you?” he coos. “His scales are a deep, rich blue, which usually signifies health and fertility. A dragon will only present like this to selected mates or when they’re neck deep in heat.”

“You’re saying he wants to get fucked?” _No,_ the remaining part of Hanzo’s rational mind snarls. _Yes_ , his body sings.

“In a manner of speaking.” The man pulls his fingers out and Hanzo shamefully tries to follow them back. The man chuckles and gives Hanzo’s penis a quick stroke before he withdraws entirely. “He’s really hoping for a dragon mate to breed him, but at this point, I believe he’ll settle for anything.” Is Hanzo really that transparent? Can the man read him that easily? That is nearly more embarrassing than Hanzo’s sluttish displays.

“ _Breed_ him?” another exclaims. “I thought you said this was a male?”

“Dragons have a different kind of anatomy,” the man repeats. “The entire species tends towards being monosexual. Any classified ‘females’ are really just an—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Hanzo snarls, thrashing against the chains again. He has _waited_ long enough. He’s always known that humans were dull-witted things, but how long would it take for _one_ of them to finally give him what he needs? At this point, he doesn’t even care which—the one with the gentle, knowing fingers or one of the prattling morons watching. They are all equally unworthy of him and all will die when Hanzo is freed, after he has banked the fire inside of him. 

“So he’s doing that ‘presenting’ thing and making himself all pretty because he wants your cock and can’t tell the difference between your fingers and dragon dong.”

“Oh, there is no doubt that he can tell the difference. Dragons are rather…large.” Hanzo jumps when the man brushes against his still engorged length, fingers traveling pleasurably over his sensitive skin. “As you can see. With the heat, however, he likely just doesn’t care.” There’s a small sucking noise that has Hanzo wiggling backward again. He’s unsure what it is, but the sound is reminiscent of a mating and he _needs_. Desire is threatening to burn him from the inside out.

“Are you serious?” a man asks.

“Dragons have a very pleasant taste.” Fingers dip inside of Hanzo again, giving a brief swirl that makes him shudder before they pull out again. “Especially ones in heat.” More fingers, these ones thicker and rougher than before, shove inside of Hanzo, scraping his inner walls. Pain brings back a small section of Hanzo’s mind, the wrongness of it loudly declaring the mate’s unsuitability. He growls and tries to shift away, pushing himself back up and bringing his hind quarters to the ground. The man swears as his fingers are dislodged from Hanzo’s body but the one from before cuts him off with a quick chastisement. “ _Careful!_ You don’t want to damage him.”

The wet sucking sound from before is back and Hanzo closes his eyes against it. “That is good,” the man says, a bit of wonder in his voice. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” another voice chimes in. “Let me try.” A gentle hand rubs between Hanzo’s legs, urging him to present himself again. The fingers tease along his slit, tenderly separating the folds, and Hanzo follows their request. The heat raging through his body demands it, flowering at a little bit of kindness. Maybe this human will prove more satisfactory than the others.

“What the hell are you—Fuck.” 

Hanzo’s eyes open as a delicate pressure flutters along the outside of his slit, a surprised moan reverberating through his throat. He pushes back against the pressure, feeling something solid wedge itself under his tail. “Like that?” a soft voice teases and the pressure returns, sliding farther in. A warm ache throbs in Hanzo’s groin and his tail curls, looping over a body behind him. Unworthy or not, the human feels incredible against Hanzo’s groin. If only he could reach deeper. 

“That’s just nasty,” one mutters.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to put your dick in there,” the soft voiced one replies. Hanzo whimpers a protest of the removal of what had likely been the human’s tongue. He hates his weakness, hates his neediness, but he could no more stop it than he could stop the sun from rising. There is a fire inside of him that demands the fluid of others to be slaked. 

“Fuck, yeah,” slurs the other one behind him. “That’s on the table, right? Doc, said?”

“It would likely be for the best. A dragon in heat denied for too long can have…unpredictabilities. It’s best to sate it.” 

“What do you mean ‘unpredictabilities’?”

“I mean that they’re unpredictable.”

“What the fuck ever. Scoot over, I’m going first.” The human’s small hands finally latch around Hanzo’s hips with intent and Hanzo whines. The chains clank as he squirms in the human’s grip. “Fuck, he’s gagging for it, isn’t he?”

“It. Not ‘he’. _It_. You’re fucking a monster.”

“A goddamned dragon,” the man rasps in response. “A goddamned dragon that’s going to feel amazing on my cock.” Metal clinks and fabric rustles as the human finally sheds his coverings and a soft, warm touch different from the others slips along the outer fold of Hanzo’s slit. It’s broader and less dexterous than the humans’ previous appendages and Hanzo hopes that its arrival means that the human will finally breed him as he requires. Hanzo hitches his hips higher as instinct demands, needing this worthless human to find his hole and fill him. “Christ, do you see that?” The tip of the human’s penis slips inside of Hanzo and Hanzo bites his lip behind his gag. He’s already as far back as the chains will allow and all that’s left for him to do is sit and wait and hope that the human gives him more. The man slides in easily, settling himself against Hanzo’s flank. Hands stroke along Hanzo’s tail. It’s pleasant but it does little to assuage the burning need inside of him. Neither does the length inside of him. It is too small and his body rejects it as unworthy, unlikely to carry viable seed. Hanzo needs more.

Hanzo thrashes his tail, growling in dissatisfaction. His claws once again scrape the human’s disfiguring concrete. “Whoa,” the man inside of him says. “What’s going on?”

The first man, the ‘doc’, hums. Hanzo has no patience for either of them. He rocks forward, once more fighting against the chains even as he works the human’s penis inside of him, taking it to just the point where it would leave him and slamming himself back onto it. “ _Christ_ ,” the man gasps. His circling pack of scavengers chitter in apprehension.

“Maybe you ought to pull out—”

“It looks mad.”

“I don’t think you’re doing it for him.”

“Shut up!” the man shouts. “Christ, can’t a man fuck in peace around here?” He tightens his grip on Hanzo’s hips. “Now listen here, you son of a bitch—”

An ear-piercing howl reverberates through the room, echoing from deep within the surrounding building. Fear bubbles up into the air, thick and sour, its stench turning Hanzo’s stomach. The man inside of him withdraws, leaving Hanzo with nothing but the hot, maddening ache of his emptiness. Metal jingles behind him as he snarls. “You made sure to lock McCree’s door, right?” the man hisses.

“Double-checked,” another rasps back. 

Both of their voices are low as if they are afraid of being heard. Hanzo has no such compunctions. He screams behind his gag, cursing them and their ancestors back a hundred generations. A hand lands solid and firm against his flank, stinging. “Shut the hell up!”

Another howl pierces the room and Hanzo smells the acrid scent of urine. He wrinkles his nose, his head turning to see what looks to be a human barely older than a child staring with wide, terrified eyes at the far wall. 

Metal bangs in the distance and the group jumps. Another loud clang and panic starts to set in, the weaker members peeling off to flee. 

“Hold your ground!” they’re ordered, but it does no good. The loud clangs and thuds come ever closer and the howl sounds again, this time much louder than before. It’s followed by a rumbling snarl that sends a shiver through Hanzo’s heat-addled brain. The lower register sounds akin to the lustful query of a suitable mate. 

_There are no other dragons here_ , Hanzo’s rational mind tries to tell him but it is drowned out with the overwhelming thrum of _mate_.

The last of the humans flee, even the one that had tried to get the others to hold, exiting out various doors as the deep rumbling finally reaches Hanzo. Under the vocalizations, he can make out the harsh hiss of labored breathing. He shudders, his claws skidding forward as he half-slides into position again. _Mate_ , his instincts proclaim with satisfaction.

A shriek of metal against metal comes from behind him, then a heavy bang. A scent enters the room, musty like the earth but tinged with the tingling taste of magic. Hanzo’s first thought is of an earth dragon—less than desirable but acceptable—but there’s the lingering smell of the woods that gives him pause. 

His mate breathes heavily behind him, stalking ever closer on four limbs until Hanzo can feel the hot breath against his flank. He mewls softly in supplication, needing his mate to breed him and rid him of the frustration that has built inside of him due to the human’s bungled attempts. He drops himself down as his instincts crave, arching his back to present himself. A tendril of curiosity worms through his lust and he cranes his head to try to look behind him. There’s…fur?

A warm tongue licks at the tip of Hanzo’s penis, lapping wetly along his length before following it up to the parted folds of his slit and pressing inside. Pleasure shudders through Hanzo’s body and he gasps, squirming backward to get more of that warm, insistent pressure along his insides. A cold nose bumps along Hanzo’s bare skin, panting breath puffing over him and the puzzle finally clicks together despite the fire consuming Hanzo’s mind. 

_Wolf_. Hanzo’s pride briefly flares, burning brightly amidst his lust. He will not be bred by a _wolf_. The tongue laps inside of him again, however, and all of his protests die a quick death. Maybe the wolf won’t be so bad. It does seem to be quite skilled with its tongue and surely it will feel better inside of him than a human. He inhales sharply, feeling the invisible crackle of magic sizzle through him. The creature is no simple canine, either. Deity, he wonders? A captured spirit? What sorts of creatures had these foolish humans thoughtlessly invited into their dwelling?

Hanzo pushes back against the wolf’s probing muzzle, urging it to continue, and shudders as the tongue reaches deeper inside of him. Hanzo’s words are muffled by the leather covering his jaw but the wolf seems to understand his utterings. 

Soft fur brushes soothingly against Hanzo’s scales as the wolf attempts to mount him. The bulk of the beast presses uncomfortably against his tail but not enough to dent the lust still burning in Hanzo’s core. He forces his tail a little more to the side to ease his discomfort and wiggles his hips to try and catch the creature’s questing thrusts.

A hard length slides along Hanzo’s slit and he freezes in position, waiting for the wolf to try again. The creature’s penis slips inside of him, thicker and hotter than any of the humans’ appendages. Hanzo tosses his head to the side to dislodge the hair tickling his face and then tips himself onto the points of his knees to bring his feet up and brace them along the wolf’s flank, hoping to hold it in place. On top of him, the wolf pants along his back, wet breath slicking Hanzo’s scales. A tongue licks an apology along his shoulder and the shell of his ear and Hanzo feels a warm glow unfurl inside of him. 

_It is alright_ , Hanzo attempts to say, his voice muffled nonsense. The chains on his arms clank as he tries to raise them to reach his mate. The short restraints deny him the pleasure of touch and Hanzo bites back a grumble lest the wolf think that it is aimed at his efforts to breed Hanzo because besides his bound body, Hanzo has few complaints at the moment. The wolf is swelling inside of him, typical of his kind, and it is akin enough to a dragon mating that Hanzo’s baser instincts are already humming in satisfaction despite the unappeased lust still inside of him. 

The knot at the base of the wolf’s shaft expands enough to press against the walls of Hanzo’s insides and catch along the rim of his entrance. Hanzo moans as he feels the wolf throb inside of him. He feels precariously balanced upon a precipice of pleasure, with only a nudge needed to push him over the edge. The wolf whines as he thrusts shallowly, the knot too large to give him much room to maneuver. His bulk rests on top of Hanzo’s half-transformed body, each push enough to drive Hanzo forward, the wolf’s weight pressing him pleasingly against the ground. 

Hanzo’s claws scrape and his knees fight for leverage as the wolf steadily shoves him downward. One of the wolf’s paws slip to the floor, landing beside Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo fumbles for it, his claws catching and accidentally tearing a strip of leather. He tosses it away and wraps his fingers around the beast’s ankle, using it to ground himself. Perfect above him, perfect inside of him, Hanzo vocalizes his pleasure, trilling notes upward that the wolf answers with more whimpers and driving thrusts. _Worthy_. Hanzo convulses around the knot inside of him, his own pleasure spilling onto the concrete floor as wave after wave of satisfaction washes over him.

As Hanzo collapses into a pile of heat-sated contentment, the wolf croons at him and its thrusts grow rougher and more erratic until driving in one final time. Hanzo moans weakly as the wolf starts to empty himself inside of Hanzo, his heat gratefully accepting the wolf’s gift. Hanzo feels the swirl of magic inside of him, condensing into a ball deep in his belly, and his eyes flutter. Perhaps it will take.

The beast huffs on top of him, hind legs wobbling unsteadily, Hanzo’s back the only thing keeping him upright. The wolf tries to dismount to the right and Hanzo is forced to follow when the knot pulls painfully against him. _No_ , Hanzo orders from behind his gag. _Be still_. The wolf whines pitifully at him.

Time passes slowly, Hanzo aware of each minute as it creeps by. His heat is momentarily gone, his rational mind briefly returned, and he knows that the humans that fled will come back eventually. Whether they expect to find Hanzo alive and well or just his corpse is a question that Hanzo’s not particularly interested in other than to mark it down as one more way that the humans were barely worth looking upon. Obviously, they had considered the wolf to be dangerous, thus why they had run. And not a one had bothered to think about freeing Hanzo beforehand, leaving his ability to fend for himself severely hindered. Cowards.

The wolf moves on top of Hanzo, a massive paw coming down beside him to steady their combined forms and Hanzo looks at it. A leather bracelet wraps around the wolf’s ankle, a feeling of magic pulsing from it. It feels wrong. Hanzo wrinkles his nose and pulls away before he remembers how easily the matching one had been discarded. He reaches out with a claw and easily slices the bracelet in two so that he can toss it away.

“Oh,” the wolf says and shifts on top of him, soft fur rubbing over Hanzo’s scales. Hanzo pays it no mind—not until it’s followed by “well, crime-a-niddly, just what have I gotten myself into now?” Hanzo whips his head around as best as he’s able, trying to catch sight of the wolf still on top of him. Those were actual _words_. In English rather than Japanese—and heavily accented English at that. “Uh, if you can, you know, understand me, I sure hope that you enjoyed it, too. I think I’m tingling.”

 _You can speak?_ Hanzo demands. Once again, however, his words are muffled nonsense.

“Sorry, darlin’,” the wolf says. “I can’t make out what you’re saying with that mask you’re wearing.” Hanzo tosses his head in frustration, voicing a few wordless noises to express himself. “Oh, right.” The wolf sets his teeth to the strap of Hanzo’s gag, chewing at the leather. He’s through in four bites, the detestable mask falling away. “Well, you’re right pretty, aren’t you?” the wolf says, the words twisting around his teeth and his muzzle.

“And you speak a human tongue,” Hanzo rasps back in English, his voice blown out from his heat.

“Well, yeah,” the wolf replies. “What would I be—oh.” He shifts on top of Hanzo again. “On account of the fur. I got you. Supposin’ I should introduce myself. You know, now that we’re all…” The wolf shifts again, his knot once more pulling tightly at Hanzo’s entrance. Hanzo grimaces. “…intimately acquainted and all. Name’s Jesse McCree. I, uh, don’t belong to these folks.”

Hanzo stares at the far wall. He’s hardly an expert in these matters, but he thinks that this might be the strangest mating he’s been involved in. “You got a name, darlin’?” Jesse McCree, the wolf, asks him. “Figure since we got the time, we might as well get to know each other a little better. It’s damn convenient that you know English considering that you’re a…” McCree pauses, his furry paws sliding across Hanzo’s sides and it’s a little insulting how long he takes. Hanzo’s not fully transformed, no, but he’s hardly _unrecognizable_. “What are you again?”

“A dragon,” Hanzo snaps, his pride at being unable to fully display himself fueling his anger.

“Right, right. Of course you are. Pretty thing like you. How could I have been so silly? There aren’t many dragons back where I’m from but now that you mention it, you look exactly how a dragon should.”

The goodwill that Hanzo had been bearing for Jesse McCree is fast evaporating. “I am not able to take my full form,” Hanzo says sullenly.

“Oh, on account of the chains? I hear you, darlin’, I do. Maybe when the, uh, you know, _problem_ we’re having resolves itself in a little while, we can help each other out with that. See, metal don’t affect me none, but these enchanted straps of leather they got on me sure do. Each one’s got a specific purpose to keep me locked in one particular form. I can’t remove them myself but you seem to be doing a bang-up job of it. And if I could get my human self back to work with, I bet that I could get you free of those chains.”

Hanzo shifts forward, biting back a moan as Jesse McCree’s large knot finally pops free.

“Oh, _honeybee_ ,” McCree croons. “Anyone ever tell you how amazing you feel?”

Hanzo feels his face warm and resolutely tries to force the blush back down. “Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?”

“Oh, darlin’, that’s just ‘cause we’ve been stuck here together and ‘cause I like you. Truth be told, I can be quiet if I need to be. Not a peep, I swear.”

The chains clink as Hanzo inspects them. “Shimada Hanzo,” he says.

“Pardon?”

“My name,” Hanzo replies. “You asked for it earlier.”

“Oh!” McCree seems pleased that Hanzo answered his earlier question. “Well, that’s great. Real good name.”

“I am happy it meets your approval,” Hanzo says. “Now, move to where I can see you.”

McCree finally shifts off of Hanzo’s back to land fully on the ground. His toenails click as he carefully maneuvers himself around Hanzo’s restraints and Hanzo stares at the large brown wolf that slides into view. Larger than many bears, McCree would look the part of the many of the wolf myths if it wasn’t for the long silly tongue lolling out of his grinning mouth. The thought of where that tongue has been makes Hanzo blush a little more. Hopefully, he can pass it off as his natural coloring.

Two more bracelets are wrapped around McCree’s hind legs and a large thick collar wraps around his throat. Hanzo beckons him closer with a claw and easily cuts through the bracelets. The collar takes a bit of work but it gives way as well, dropping away from McCree’s thick coat. 

“Oh, _yeah_ ,” McCree mutters and shifts in front of Hanzo, his form shrinking into a far more vulnerable human body. Hanzo takes in the new appearance, from McCree’s newly revealed human legs to the bit of fur that still remains on his chest and down to the small human cock demurely tucked between his legs.

“Hm,” Hanzo grunts.

McCree covers himself with a hand. It’s then that Hanzo notices that in his human form, McCree only has the one, his other arm ending in a stump at the elbow. Interesting. “Hey now, I didn’t go around judging you.”

Hanzo looks away. “I was not judging.”

“I’m just saying that it’s plenty big for a human. I don’t get any complaints if you know what I mean.”

Sadly, Hanzo does. He doesn’t have any complaints about McCree’s performance either, dog-shaped though it was. “The chains, Jesse McCree,” Hanzo reminds him.

“Oh, right.” McCree puts his clever human fingers to work, inspecting the various locks and steadily opening them one by one. The last chain falls away from Hanzo and Hanzo stretches himself upward, reveling in his freedom. “Whoa,” McCree says, growing smaller and smaller the more that Hanzo stretches. “You are…” He swallows, looking Hanzo up and down. “Downright amazing, aren’t you?”

Hanzo cannot stop the instinctive preen. It’s a compliment from his mate, after all. He flicks his tail, the blue scales coiling around to frame McCree’s human form. It’s…rather attractive, Hanzo admits. McCree is attractive. For a human. Wolf spirit. Whatever he is. Hanzo looks away and studies his makeshift prison, smelling out the rafters of steel.

Fingers slide along Hanzo’s scales, smoothing them pleasingly and Hanzo glances down sharply. McCree yanks his hand back. “Sorry,” he says. “It was just, you know, pretty.”

Hanzo exhales, warm, wet air rippling. “I did not mind,” he replies. In fact, he would not mind if McCree were to continue his ministrations. 

“Oh.” McCree grins. “Good to know.” He gives Hanzo another small pat and Hanzo definitely does not purr in response. That would be silly. “Say, uh, I hope you don’t get mad at me asking, but do you fly?”

Fly? Would McCree rather Hanzo be a dragon of the air rather than—Hanzo halts himself before he gets too far. McCree is simply asking out of ignorance. And it wouldn’t matter anyway. Or it shouldn’t.

But it does.

“I can swim.”

McCree considers this. “Yeah, I imagine you can. We could probably work with that.” He jerks a thumb at the human-sized door behind him. “My nose is telling me that there’s a river about a tick that way, so if we got there, you think you could take us far away?”

Escape? “Together?” Hanzo asks, his head tilting.

McCree flushes and it’s a curious thing. Adorable. “Well, if you don’t mind. I mean, if you don’t want me, you can drop me off somewhere—”

“This is acceptable,” Hanzo says, accepting McCree’s offer and cutting him off before he has the chance to finish his offer of abandonment. Hanzo’s heat is still threatening to flare back to life and McCree had been…suitable. Hanzo doesn’t think that he would mind another round.

Eyeing the size of the door, Hanzo shrinks back down to a more human-like form, the shape he takes whenever he’s been forced to interact with the fragile creatures. McCree stares. “Well, you’re just pretty all the time, aren’t you?” he mutters. Hanzo’s lips quirk into a smile and he smoothes them back down. 

“I believe you wanted to escape?” Hanzo says.

“Right.” McCree nods. “It’s this way. Suppose I should find some clothes, though…”

Hanzo brushes past him, a hand stroking along McCree’s naked side. Fragile, but yet still pleasing. “You do not have to do so on my account,” Hanzo murmurs, feeling bold. Inside of him, his heat tickles along his inhibition, burning away his outer walls. “I enjoy the view.” He heads for the door as McCree gapes behind him.

“Hey. Hey, does that mean that you like the look of me? Human and all?”

Hanzo pauses beside the door. “We must hurry, Jesse McCree. Before the men from before come back.” He opens the door and steps outside. “Neither of your forms are displeasing,” he adds. The wolf had not been hideous. In fact, Hanzo wouldn’t mind seeing it again—some place safe and secure where he can once again let McCree mount him.

“Oh, darlin’,” McCree croons. “Keep buttering me up like this and I won’t know what to do with myself.” He happily runs after Hanzo, dodging Hanzo’s swinging tail like second nature and leads them to the river.

As Hanzo sinks into the water and returns to his true form, he catches McCree staring again with wonder on his face and can’t help the coy flip of his tail. McCree grins as water splashes. “You flirtin’ with me?” Hanzo doesn’t answer, but curls his tail around McCree to bring him in closer, sliding him on top of Hanzo. Hanzo’s heat flares into a slow smolder, wanting another chance at a mating, but Hanzo pushes it down.

He takes off, rapidly swimming upstream for the mountain sources. McCree shouts in delight, his arms pinwheeling for purchase before settling along Hanzo’s back. “Hold on, McCree,” Hanzo tells him and swims faster.

“Call me Jesse!” McCree shouts back and runs his fingers along Hanzo’s scales, a pleasurable sensation that Hanzo would like to invite more of when they have the time.

Jesse, Hanzo thinks. A wolf. An unconventional mate. 

Hanzo thinks he might like him.

**Author's Note:**

> I have two other McHanzo fics in the works, but this one wanted to be written first. Apparently, I had a thing.


End file.
